


What'd You Expect From Me?

by GasterFan5



Series: Gravity Falls [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, I Tried, I can't write well, Not really for anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:11:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasterFan5/pseuds/GasterFan5
Summary: jaundice : a medical condition with yellowing of the skin or whites of the eyesWhat if Ford met Stan, to find he has yellow eyes like Bill?





	What'd You Expect From Me?

Stanley was miserable. He’d gotten a hangover from whatever drugs the most recent gang put through his system and the alcohol he drank didn’t help.

He hated being sober worse than being drunk-more so than even drinking those alcohols that made him depressed, hating himself rather than the world. Now, here he was in the Stanley Mobile, feeling like shit, rereading a letter addressed to him from Gravity Falls. It wrote,

_Stanley,_

_I’m sorry about the lack of contact-I have been busy, and, presumably, so were you. It took me a while to find you, but I did. I have a request for you to come down to Gravity Falls._

_Sincerely,_

_Stanford_

Or, at least, that’s what he wished it said. Checking the back of the postcard, it said maybe a word or two, but nothing else. Frowning, Stan checked his appearance-gotta look decent before meeting up with your brother that hates you.

Yellow eyes greeted him in the rearview mirror, and he recalled a passage from God knows where. _Alcoholism can cause jaundice, due to the liver diseases attached to it._ Now that he thought about it, it was probably that weird teacher he had for science in the 11th grade.

This wasn’t the first time this happened, but he didn’t really give a damn. Bags encircled his eyes, and bruises sported his face-and other places, but it wasn’t as important. A long, deep gash covered one eye that he had gotten a day ago.

He looked OK. Looking around his car, Stan considered what to take. There were his pills-damn, he still didn’t think he needed them. I mean _sure_ slashing his throat wasn’t okay, but he didn’t need to go to an asylum! Stan pocketed the pills, examining everything else. Hell, this’d probably last a day anyways, might as well not censor it.

Stan started the car, driving off to find his brother in Gravity Falls. It was around 14 hours to get there from what he thought was Mexico, but with his lack of sleep and speeding to ensure his brother was alright (those thoughts really got to you) it took, say, 10 hours.

…

Stanford was losing it. After finding the truth about Bill-why hadn’t he seen this earlier?!-he needed to call up Stanley. Giving the first book to Shermie, he hid the second deep in the forest. Knowing how good of a hider Stan was, he called him up  in hopes of hiding it forever.

Yawning, he took another bite of his breakfast. It had been a long night, and with McGucket leaving…well, he had to take care of himself, what with him gone for good. Looking out the window, Ford watched the rain fall. _Stan should be here soon. Just gotta wait a little longer._

_What if he doesn’t?_

Ford sighed. Recently, Bill had been getting through his head. He was working on that, but he couldn’t tell what was Bill and what was himself now.

_He will. He has to. Stan always comes back for you._

And that’s where Ford was wrong. He’ll only come back until he breaks. Ford heard a car engine, spinning around in the chair and bolting to the door. There was Stan, looking at the door nervously (not like Ford knew, though). Stan knocked. Opening the door, Ford examined his eyes.

**_Yellow._ **His eyes were _yellow. He had gotten in contact with Bill._

“Bill, I know it’s you. I don’t know what the hell you did to my brother, but I swear I will shoot you if you don’t leave,” Ford said darkly, holding his crossbow up to Stan’s chest in hopes of getting rid of the demon.

Stan looked extremely confused, watching Ford. He knew he was serious. Stan’s expression darkened, then he laughed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come here. What kind of a joke is this?” Stan looked around. “Where’s the camera crew, eh! Haha.”

“Bill, I’m serious. **Now.** ”

Ford could only think about Bill, and how he’d gotten a hold of his brother. Oh _God_  how did he let this _happen_? Stan gave him a look.

“Okay. Who the f-heck is Bill? Why’d I come here if you don’t give a damn?! Why’d you tell me to come here for me to leave? **Why did I come here?!** ” Stan laughed again, snatching the crossbow from his brother.

“I’d never let someone else kill me,” he said, looking over the mechanism. How do you get this thing to work? There was an arrow in it already.

Ford’s eyes widened, and he attempted to get it back. “Give that back, Bill!”

“I’m not Bill, poindexter.” Stan looked at him, hoping he would recognize him by now. Ford gave him that same, dark look. Stan felt defeated, he had one more shot. If he pretended he was done with life, perhaps Ford would wake up. If Ford didn’t-he’d be dead. “If you won’t understand who I am…then go ahead and shoot me.” he said, closing his eyes and sitting down on the doorstep.

Ford gaped, looking down. It didn’t make any sense! “B-but…the yellow eyes…” he started. Stan’s head shot straight up, causing a muscle to sore.

“You serious?!” Was that _it_? Nothing else but yellow eyes got him like this, almost shooting him?

He laughed. “Buddy, I’ve got jaundice.” Ford looked extremely confused, trying to recall what that was. He face-palmed when he got it.

“Oh. Well shit.” Ford sighed, also relived. He knew Bill wouldn’t act like this, and was hoping so much it wasn’t him… “I need you to take this book, and never come back.” Stan looked dumbfounded. First he was almost killed, next told to leave again? What. No.

“Oh…I just figured my bro’d wanna see me. Heheh..That’s fine.” Stan took the book from his hands forcefully. Giving Ford a smile, he walked back to the car.

Ford watched him go into the car, then shut the door and resumed through the window. Stan smiled, then banged his head on the wheel. Tears poured like the previous rain-wait, that was still going? Oh.-and Ford watched him take a bottle out of his pocket, downing a few pills. _Shit! That’s not good. What if he downed too much and can’t drive? And what’re they for?_

Before he could reach out, though, Stan took a deep breath and drove off.

…maybe….

…maybe it would’ve been better if this “Bill” got him.

 

.      .     .

**STANLEY PINES DEAD**

**CAR CRASH KILLS WANTED MAN**

The newspaper was always a horrid sight. Going towards his mailbox, Ford saw it-the journal Stan should’ve taken. Frowning, he collected it and the mail.

Reading the headline, Ford burst into tears, which rolled onto the print and washed some of the ink. Stanley was _dead._

He just wished he could’ve done something about it.

 

…

Driving was always a pain in the neck, but when he had to give up his car in hopes of eliminating his enemies..it seemed alright. With a sigh, he drove into the ditch, leaping out of the car afterwards and running off.

It was gonna be hard without a car.

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, I thought this sounded interesting. Then I accidentally kinda made it depressing-only a bit. Whatever, I hope you liked it ^^'


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